


A Tale of a Minstrel in Question

by Susamo



Series: A Knight of Arkon in 1149 [5]
Category: Perry Rhodan - Various Authors
Genre: Atlan Adventure in time, F/M, The Knight of Arkon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:27:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26701390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Susamo/pseuds/Susamo
Summary: Atlan da Gonozal in his role as a minstrel and knight from Toulouse has been taken by the men of the sheriff and Earl of Hereford, Roger Fitzmiles of Gloucester. He does not know why but has an awful suspicion that this might have to do with the matter of the letters he has been handed by Alan Fitzurse shortly before that man's death. Questioned by Roger Fitzmiles, he tries to act like a simple knight errant on his way to the north. Instead, he gets confronted with very different knowledge of the Earl, and political trouble spanning half of Europe...
Relationships: Atlan da Gonozal/Alexandra of Lancaster
Series: A Knight of Arkon in 1149 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938052
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	A Tale of a Minstrel in Question

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Palatinedreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palatinedreams/gifts).



> During the so-called Anarchy, the civil war fought between King Stephen of England and Queen Mathilda or Maude, and their followers, murder and the worst of brutality became so common that no-one wondered about another village burned and all women raped, or men killed by the hundreds while the children went starving and desperate. Especially the Norman lords acted mercilessly towards anyone they thought an enemy and could drag anyone they wanted to their castles and imprison him there, and treat him as they would, torturing and murdering as they wished. Noblemen were often treated well enough since one could always exchange a prisoner for another one of one's own side or demand a lot of ransom money. The matter became even more complicated with many nobles, and some of them among the most powerful, changing their loyalty and supporting the other side suddenly. Some changed back and forth like in a round dance. Ranulf of Chester was notorious for that kind of behaviour, and far too powerful to be called to account. 
> 
> To question a prisoner with torturing him, might he be someone who had committed a crime or someone who was thought a spy or simply an enemy one hoped to grill for information was normal and commonplace, and was neither wondered at nor questioned. Again, noblemen were not often killed that way because they had their worth to be exchanged as prisoners of war, or to be ransomed. A man hurt severely might die too easily, and then his capturer had lost his value. But there were ways to torture a prisoner without threatening his life too soon, and any enemy was grilled for information. The honour code nobles and knights should have adhered to was violated too often during the Anarchy, even by the highest of the land, even the King, who with his troops virtually laid waste und burned down whole counties of his vassals who had defected to Queen Maude's side. At the time of the Anarchy, the people said that "Christ and His Saints Slept".
> 
> The troubadours and minstrels serving Kings and High nobles like dukes or counts often were used as diplomats and messengers between kings and nobles, entrusted with secrets and matters of the state. They were highly educated and   
> very loyal to their sovereigns because they were dependent on that sovereign's grace to live and be welcomed at his court.   
> And only at a noble court, such a minstrel could do his work of poetry and praise at all. They seldom could fall back to land or a castle of their own, since they most often were the younger sons of minor nobles.
> 
> So, a wandering minstrel also was a neutral intermediary and a secret messenger and negotiator over treaties, and often also was a political spy...
> 
> Angevin is the language of Anjou; the Angevins are the ducal house of Anjou, the house of Plantagenet. Geoffrey "le bel" Plantagenet, duke of Anjou, married Empress Mathilda (or Maude), the only legitimate child of King Henry I. of England after her brother died when his ship sank (the catastrophe of "la Blanche Nef", the White Ship). He won Normandy as well. They were the parents of young Henry Fitzempress Plantagenet, who became King Henry the II of England.

A Tale of a Minstrel in Question

They stripped him to shirt and hose, even boots and socks taken away under the security screen of five cocked crossbows, and bound him again with stronger and more permanent chains, dragging him down and down winding steps to a dungeon in Hereford castle where it stank of burnt flesh and blood and feces, and something rotting away somewhere, a truly vile stink Atlan almost gagged on.

He had ordered the Falcon and the wolf away, the wolf to guard Gromell and Alexandra from afar, leaping into the church only in the direst of straits, and the falcon to fly above and keep him in its eyes and within scan. 

The simple ring of iron they had let him keep, which controlled the falcon, while the wristband to command the wolf had gone with the belt and the rest of the equipment. The belt of the hose he still wore and had an emergency kit at the ready that way. He was not lost yet, far from it. To keep things quiet, he had let himself be taken, hoping to be able to convince the earl of Hereford that he had no reason to complain about the knight from Toulouse. Whether he would be successful at this remained to be seen.

He was chained to a beam hanging overhead with his arms stretched high, having to stand on tiptoe to keep painful strain from the shoulders, which was a damned uncomfortable position, the more so when they had to settle down to wait, the men unpacking sausages and bread, munching happily and drinking ale, while the Arkonide’s stomach was empty. The midday meal the abbey had served had been frugal. He was going to protest loudly to the sheriff, as much was clear! He was a noble, a knight-

“And so? As a foreign knight, you have no rights at all if worst comes to worst. Better prepare for an unpleasant interview!” the logic sector sent sarcastically.

Dagor breathing and light meditation helped for a time. The men had begun to play knucklebones and were laughing and horsing around. Nobody paid attention to the prisoner, who had gauged that this was done intentionally, aimed at fraying his nerves and making him hurt even before the Earl came to ask him what he wanted to know. Damn it. This was professional torture, right and clean! Of course the Earl was late on purpose!

At long last two more guardsmen descended the steps, and the playing men took their tools and stood to attention as the Earl of Hereford appeared in a comfortable surcotte of dark brown and blue, his crest stitched in, yellow lions upon the field of French blue, the colour of the French lily.

Oh. It was as if one felt scales fall from one’s eyes, literally. For the third addressee, the messenger was to go hunt lions upon the meadow of the lily. Was it the Earl of Hereford that letter was intended for? But what were the Earl’s leanings and motives? Was he about to turn, seeking a prisoner and traitor he could hand over to king Stephen, or was he still loyal to the Angevin cause?

If this were about the letters, he soon would find out by the questions he was asked. For now, it was safer to feign ignorance and deny everything. They could not have been seen by anyone with Alan Fitzurse and later his corpse, or the robots would have scanned and read that person. But there had been no-one.

To his surprise, Atlan was not asked anything about messengers or letters, though, but very directly about Poins of Lancaster. Where had he met him, what had they spoken about and when, who had been present, and so on.

In between his answers, the Arkonide had to breathe deeply and clench his teeth, again and again. The pain was becoming increasingly sharp and biting, at wrists and shoulders as well as at the legs where the muscles threatened to cramp at toes and calves.

Relaxing exercises, going on unobtrusively, alleviated the stress and the pain; a Dagor Laktrote could deal with this far better than any human could-but he were a samurai from Nippon or a wudang shifu from Chung-kuo. Or a hindu wiseman, or a Buddhist monk; the eastern mental techniques had astonishing parallels to Dagor techniques-

“Quite an interesting mess you have left behind you, Sir Atlan, you and your squire and your trained hunting animals, I must say”, the Earl, who was the sheriff of the area as well, said in a conversational tone.

The situation had a macabre touch. He was addressed politely as Sir and yet hung there by his wrists, barefoot. 

But now at least they were coming to more important matters than talking about pleasantries exchanged during the feast in hall, or hunting stories told with cup in hand.

“Sir Surrey of Mowbray could not accept having been defeated and denied his will by me”, he responded. “As a d’Aubigny, he should know what a knight has sworn in his oath and how he is expected to behave, and yet he has stooped to murder-this was his second try, even, since he has come after me and my squire at Aberystwyth, after the horse fair, with about fifteen men who attacked our camp.”

“Interesting. Neither has Sir Surrey of Mowbray come to me to complain-it seems you took your squire away from him by lawful combat. But neither have you lodged complaint about the first murderous attack upon you.”

“I saw no need. My squire and I had won that fight and forced the other party into retreat, and I thought them chastised and warned enough. Surrey and I went against each other then at the tournament, and he was bested by me again. I thought the matter settled then.”

The Earl, who had a neatly trimmed reddish-brown beard and russet hair a little darker, grimaced at that and smiled wryly, well visible in the light of torches and the scant daylight that came in from slits in the wall far overhead. 

“Settled, with a d’Aubigny-Sir Atlan, as I know him that man will stop going for you when he thinks he has settled this matter between you and him and that will only be done with his death, or yours.”

The Arkonide grimaced, and ironically retorted:” Which tells me that we didn’t kill him, yet, not even by this mess.”

“No, not even by this mess. Nine men are dead, the others you sent away, wounded-and of these, at least three more are expected to die as well. In all, it seems that about thirty-five men went after you, and only three escaped unharmed.”

“What about Surrey himself?” 

“Surrey of Mowbray lies in bed, his face slit from cheeks to the chin by the claws of your falcon. They cut like knives, Mowbray’s steward says, and will leave him marked forever. But he will survive.”

“I don’t know whether I should rejoice for the sake of this fact or not.”

The earl and sheriff leaned forward, profoundly serious now. “Be glad of that, Sir, very glad. I sharply disapprove of private wars like that, and I disapprove the more if the lords of the domain I hold from the king come to harm in such a private feud, and that by the hand of a foreign landless knight, a knight errant on his own mission. The first encounter you had with Sir Surrey I cannot criticize, since that was proper combat and tjost between two knights and was done accordingly, and with witnesses. But everything after-Sir Atlan, I cannot countenance slaughter like that!”

Atlan thought that he had heard wrong.

“Your Grace, in both cases it was me who was ambushed and attacked, and it was me who had to defend myself and fight for my life! Should I have acquiesced to being murdered just to avoid making trouble and a stir in your domain?!”

The earl grimaced. “No, of course not. But after the first attack Sir de Mowbray mounted at you, you should have sent me word or come in person to lay down a complaint. How can I keep order if the people under my jurisdiction think fit to take everything into their own hands? The second attack would not have happened if Surrey knew that I was watching him closely, and nine men, five of them knights themselves, would still be alive. Not to speak of the abduction that took place under cover of escape from that attack-not that I doubt your need of running, Sir Atlan, with thirty-five men behind you, and lady Alexandra in mortal danger for the warning she gave you-but it would have been your duty to bring her back to her father, no matter what, not even considered the felony you committed the day before.”

The Arkonide sighed. “You have had word of sister Benedicta.”

“Oh yes, I have had word from her, and in detail and great agitation and with a fixed opinion”, the earl of Hereford said. “Though I do not necessarily follow that opinion, Sir Atlan. I am no nun to fear the carnal sin as she does, and I very well take into account what you did at Abergavenny, healing people for free, giving alms, stopping the plague, and showing new ways of planting to my peasants.”

“Then why do you treat me as you do, Your Grace? I am in a damned uncomfortable position, to say it clearly, and would very much prefer to have back my boots and be able to sit down with you. If you think it necessary, keep me chained and your men ready with crossbows. But I would very much appreciate being treated as the noble and the knight I am, instead of like a felon indeed.”

“I very well believe that you do, Sir Atlan of Arkon from Toulouse. But you have been accused and indicted for that felony and that abduction, apart from seducing and luring an innocent woman’s soul to hell, which is not a claim I can put down easily to pursue. But the accusation as such stands and has not been denied by you or the lady Alexandra, as I hear, and so for now I must act accordingly. Do you deny it?”

Atlan took a deep breath. Damn it to hell, literally. By now he began to hurt in truth.

“No, I don’t. But I plan to remedy my deed as well as I can, and will marry my lady Alexandra of Lancaster as soon as possible by handfasting, for our lives, and I will renounce any claim I might have on any dowry or property of hers, or anything she might inherit. I have enough for both of us and can give her whatever she needs and provide for her well and amply. I do not need anything that belongs to her father, or to her. All I want and desire is the lady herself, and nothing more.”

“Noble, and magnanimous if you do that, Sir Atlan. That might indeed be an acceptable remedy-at least for the lady herself, though perhaps less so for her relatives, in short, her father. But the law allows for such a solution if the woman agrees, and it seems she has already done so.”

“Yes, she has!”

“Well then, I shall have her asked, and if she agrees publicly, I will let you off the hook and let you go free for that. You will have to pay a substantial fine, though, and give a considerable donation of charity to the parish of Hereford where you will be handfasted- a hundred shillings of silver in both cases. But if you can pay for all of that- “

“I can. My purse is big enough for that.”

“You are an unusual knight errant returning from a Crusade which was a disaster, as I hear, Sir Atlan”, the earl said slowly. “And so I cannot let you down as you have requested, might you be noble and a knight or not. You ride with but one man, whom you, moreover, only have hired recently, and you have but the scantest equipment one needs to travel while one still is able fight at tournaments. Yet you could give out as much money as you did at Abergavenny, paying for good horses at Aberystwyth, and can easily pay the sums I have named now, it seems, never a trace of hesitation in your voice. The good sister has hinted at evil deeds further when my deputy did not jump to seeing you in as dark a view as she did, calling you a possible veneficus and a sorcerer who must have bewitched her innocent niece who never was an evil person, and now nearly has become so within a night and a day. Since I know that you are a most accomplished medicus as well I do not wonder at the fears of the ignorant. But that a sister infirmartrix might see you in such a light is peculiar indeed and calls for further investigation.”

“That stems from the looks I have, the colour of my eyes and hair I was born with-I was made so by God himself and none other, Sir!-and also from the misfortune I suffer from, as all the vassals of Count Raymond of Toulouse do as long as he stays being hard-headed and will not bow to the bishops and the cardinal of his county, and especially not to the pope.”

The earl leaned forward, clearly quite interested. “Go on, Sir Atlan. I believe I understand.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The Arkonide took a deep breath, and shortly gasped with the pain he felt in his shoulders and his arms and legs. “Please, can’t you- “

“No, I cannot be lenient with you, Sir. Say on, and we will see.”

Atlan clenched his teeth and tried to alleviate the pain by a short breathing exercise, and told the Earl all about the alleged ban he gave out to be under, which would have been real, had he hailed from Toulouse indeed. In between, he had to moan now and then. Dammit, which suspicion was this Earl Roger harbouring? What was going on here?  
He was hanging there for more than an hour now, rather one and a half. His muscles were under real strain and were screaming at him, no wonder in a position like that. And Earl Roger de Gloucester had settled back comfortably, drinking dark fragrant ale from a big tankard one of the guardsmen had brought, having a bit of bread with butter and ham on the side. Of course the man was doing that on purpose.

“So the good sister was rather balking at the fact that you could not marry her niece in church, than at the fact that you took her at all originally, and had your will of her”, the earl said thoughtfully when his prisoner had told his tale.

“Yes. If I could have married Lady Alexandra all properly in church, having confessed and renounced any claim for any dowry and inheritance, I believe she would have accepted my suit and our match.”

“Apart from the fact, of course, that sister Benedicta, much as she thinks to act to the benefit of her niece, is not the one who can decide about the acceptance of your suit. Only the lady’s father can do that, or, in his absence, the lady herself.”

“Yes. And since her father is absent and the lady has agreed to marry me in handfasting, Your Grace, I do not see why- “

“Why, yes, exactly, Sir Knight from Toulouse. Why Lady Alexandra? You could have fallen in love all along your way from the Holy Land, wherever you might have come from-Jerusalem, or Antioch, or any coast that offered a ship back to-why not France? Why not Toulouse? Why did you fall in love in remote England, so far off the route you should have taken home? Why was it the daughter of Poins of Lancaster who took your fancy-not that I will not agree that she is exceptionally beautiful? But how come that, given your bold way of taking what you could not have otherwise, Sir Atlan of Arcon, you have not found cause to take another woman long before on your way-wherever that would lead you! I cannot believe that Alexandra of Lancaster was the first and most beautiful woman you saw and met on such a long way.”

Exasperated the Arkonide closed his eyes and let sink back his head. He had come to England because the plague had come there too, and he saw a chance to stop it in time before it ravaged the whole island and because he wanted to travel to Castle Diarmuid Faighe at the shore of the loch Cruachna Calecroe, in order to meet the descendants of the Stellar Guests there. He preferred to come the long way, learning the people’s ways and the culture, being able to blend in, and having the opportunity to come to the aliens’ descendants in the guise of a human man before he revealed his identity. He had to learn about their intentions and motivations first before he met them-on his own terms. On that way Alexandra had indeed been the first uniquely beautiful woman he had met since he had not come from Palestine at all but from the bottom of the sea!

“Well, Sir Atlan? Have you no answer to give to me, to these questions?”

The prisoner opened his eyes and bit his lips, only answered with a painful moan and then said, “For the Grace of God, ooh, -you are asking me such a lot of questions which have little to do with the issue at hand, Your Grace, while you keep me hanging there-please, your Grace-“

“Answer me!” 

Suddenly the almost pleasant conversational tone of the Earl of Hereford was gone. He stood, in the blink of an eye having become a severe and angry interrogator who was questioning a true villain and evildoer. Now, what?! Still, the direction this matter went was unclear, and so were the leanings and motives and intentions of this man.   
And the pain the Arkonide felt was steadily increasing. This was turning into true and severe torture very swiftly.

“Your Grace, I do not understand-oohh-“

“No? Do you truly not-Sir Knight from Toulouse?” The earl’s voice was sharp and cutting.

“Or would you explain this by the inexplicable, the lightning flash of love that comes unexpectedly, unbidden and unknown where from? The way the minstrels sing it so sweetly, their lays making their way from court to court in Europe, hailing first from Portiers or Paris where the famous and great Queen of France holds court, Alienor of Aquitaine, whose duchy Toulouse belongs to-oh, sorry, at the moment she is in the Holy Land still, is she not, though on her way home-Sir Minstrel?”

Atlan was thunderstruck. What the Earl of Hereford was suspecting and implying became clear at long last. He thought his prisoner to be in the service of Eleanor of Aquitaine, who, if he came from Toulouse, was his liege lady by right of inheritance from her grandmother Philippa countess of Toulouse-though count Raymond of Toulouse was at odds with his duchess. But count Raymond was under ban and on the verge of getting excommunicated, which allowed any of his vassals to disobey him and even invited, and requested, them to do so. And then, Eleanor was famous for having minstrels and trobadors, as they were called in the langue d’ oc, in her service, and at her court, having them travel with her and work for her not only in their trade proper but also as her emissaries and envoys. Some of these were even noble, sons of knights, and higher lords. Some of these had also accompanied her to the Holy Land…

Gods, the matter became clear indeed. Roger Fitzmiles of Gloucester took his prisoner to be an agent of the Queen of France-or rather, of the Duchess of Aquitaine. Had he heard already that she had become estranged from her husband the king of France, and was contemplating the annulment of her marriage, having petitioned the pope for that? Probably. Did he know that her thoughts went towards young Henry Fitzempress in her husband “the royal monk’s” stead? Few could know that since the Arkonide only knew by the data his spybots had gathered.

So, the earl of Hereford could not know the intentions of the duchess of Aquitaine, and he could not know that she was supporting the Angevin cause in secret. He could not know which side his prisoner was on, and what he knew, and what his mission and his purpose were-and neither did the Arkonide know that of his captor.  
A damned situation he was in, Atlan thought, clenching his teeth.

“Quite a performance you gave, two days ago at Abergavenny castle, as I have heard”, the earl of Hereford went on, looking at his prisoner sharply. “Playing your harp most wonderfully, telling funny stories, entertaining the whole hall. Quite professionally done, like a veritable joglar. My friend who was present at the tournament and at this feast told me that with hearing and seeing you perform one suddenly knew what the true art was of playing harp and entertainment, as it must be presented at the great courts like in Paris. Everyone was entranced and impressed, he said-Sir Minstrel. Why does a man who has his pockets lined with an inexhaustible amount of gold-where from, and who pays you, I ask? -why does such a man befriend a poor knight like Poins of Lancaster? You are landless and a knight errant, you say-where from then your wealth and your means -Sir Knight from Toulouse, after a crusade which was a disaster and left the fighters destitute-those who had no wealthy patron? What can Poins of Lancaster offer you, apart from his daughter’s hand which he never would give to you, as you say? Again-why Lady Alexandra, of all the women you must have met?”

The Arkonide took a deep breath and forced himself to breathe evenly no matter the pain pounding in his arms and shoulders and legs.

“Lady Alexandra was not the first woman I met on my way, that is true. But she was the first one I fought in a tournament for. That made her very special to me and made me notice her in a way I never had noticed other women. That tournament I got invited to unexpectedly, in the course of my medical work, when I went to Abergavenny castle to see whether I could cure young Sir Stephen of Abergavenny. None of these events were planned in any way or were the goal of any mission I am on. The one I truly pursue is to stop and end the plague here in England before it can spread and kill, since I saw that it had come here with the crusaders returning, as I have seen it spread in other countries. I felt-ohh-I felt obligated to fight that sickness both as a medicus, a hakim, and as a knight fighting in the Holy Land, where this sickness comes from. Auh-please, Your Grace, I will answer all your questions, but have me taken down from this beam! You mistake me for a villain which I am not! Haven’t I proved that well enough in these weeks past? Would a villain and an evil agent of foreign powers act and do as I have done lately? I admit to having abducted lady Alexandra and to having taken her maidenhead, asking her to be my wife and to come with me instead of staying with her father-that I did because I truly fell in love with her and felt that I could not go on without her. I had not planned on such an event! You could-oh, merciful Jesus, please-you could say that I lost my head over her, completely. But my affair with the lady Alexandra doesn't have anything to do with her father or his affairs which I know nothing about.”

Which was true no longer after they had found these letters. But that was a matter this Earl had to be kept ignorant about!

“Possibly you are telling me some of the truth”, the earl mused in a thoughtful tone. “But you surely are not telling me all the truth you could tell of, concealing the other mission you are on, serving your Queen and Duchess. So-what is it, and what has Poins of Lancaster to do with it? There are too many coincidences in your story. Possibly you truly fell in love with his daughter. But was it necessary to rape her, for you to win her love? Such an action will win a man the hate of a woman rather more than not. Either she loves you too, and this was less a rape than an illicit affair condoned by both, which makes the lady your accomplice instead of your victim, Sir Atlan-or the whole story about your love is a sham, and you have forced and abducted her for quite other purposes. What can she give to you what you lacked before if you renounce any claim on her properties? What can you make her father give to you, perhaps in exchange for his daughter, after you have made quite a stir and know that he will come here on the double for his daughter’s sake? What can the baron of Lancaster give to you?”

“For the love of God, I do not know what you are talking about, Your Grace!” But of course, he did. Roger Fitzmiles was suspecting him to know about the letters and Poins’ secret work. Or he did not know about Poins but was suspecting him for some time now. Either way, he must not betray his lady’s father, no matter what this man here was going to do to him. He deeply regretted now to have acquiesced to being taken!

“Do you not, now.” Earl Roger stepped up to his prisoner and looked up into the pale face of the tortured man. It was obvious that the strange knight from Toulouse was in great pain, and still, he was resisting and forcing himself to appear calm and strangely in control, taking deep breaths instead of screaming or begging for mercy as others had done at this stage, or cursing as other men, hung up like that for such a span of time, had tried to deal with their situation. 

And neither was the red-eyed man confessing anything at all but the obvious-which might be just as much a sham if the fine young lady had not been raped at all, and on the contrary had consented, seduced as she might have been all right. One thing was sure, this man was not only good-looking and a great fighter, but he also was a true minstrel skillful as they came. If he had sung his lays and poems to the young lady and had promised her God knew what, it was no wonder she had acquiesced-as much the story might be true. On her part, and solely concerning the way the young lady had been caught-with little or no force applied, which might explain her willingness to warn the man who had seduced her of his danger. What was left was the question of why he had chosen exactly her, and why Poins had been so concerned for this chance-met knight that he would send his own daughter to warn him, putting her and her safety at risk indeed. A knight from Toulouse, who had come from the Holy Land and who was a minstrel-that truly pointed but only one way, did it not? And then this man had white, almost silvery hair and red eyes. How many red-eyed knights who also were minstrels had been reported upon, these years? In that company, and that service he would be very devoted to, then?

“Your mistress and liege lady. What is her interest in this? What does she want? On which side does she stand?”

Atlan blinked in apparent confusion, moaning softly, while his thoughts raced. Again, the question and its possible answer were very ambiguous concerning their outcome. If his alleged-and obvious-liege lady, Eleanor of Aquitaine, married to Louis the seventh de Capet, of France, was bent on reconciliation with her husband, then her leaning could go two ways. Officially Louis the king of France was on the Angevin side-at the moment. But that could change at every other moment, and had before; but if Eleanor was, on the contrary, hoping to get the annulment of her marriage from the pope, then she would rather be on the side of young Henry in this struggle for power. 

The fun was that the Arkonide knew exactly what Eleanor or Alienor, aged twenty-seven now, was planning to do. She had met Geoffrey Plantagenet the count of Anjou, husband to Mathilda daughter of the late English king Henry, during the early stages of the crusade and had allegedly fallen to his charms, of which the man had, reportedly, many. But she had only playfully flirted with that count, who had sought her intimate company not for himself but to put forth the merits of his son Henry FitzEmpress, once he knew that the Queen of France was contemplating to divorce her husband. That they had come to a secret agreement under the guise of a very private meeting Atlan knew, having had his spy-bots record everything Rico and the main positronicon thought to be of interest on general orders. He himself had at the time been asleep still. Alienor had even kept her bosom covered and had not allowed the handsome count to kiss more than her hand-which limit the man, though he had sent her very fiery looks, had accepted, keeping faithful to his own lady who could bring him a crown or deny it to him if he displeased her.

That young Henry FitzEmpress knew of that agreement and the efforts to win him his grandfather’s throne of England along with the duchy of Normandy and the county of Anjou which he would inherit from his father one could be sure of. The duchy of Aquitaine was no mean supplement to that territory, which included the Poitou and Gascony and other nominally French provinces, and held official authority over the county of Toulouse-though that province was acting independently nowadays and only paid nominal service anymore to Aquitaine. Yet with Count Raymond under ban and the duchess of Aquitaine, backed by her husband the king of France, claiming her rights of rule in the county the stronger, Eleanor of Aquitaine could be called the rightful ruler and mistress of Toulouse again and for sure could be counted as the liege-lady for a knight out of that city and that county.

“Answer!” That was said in a hard and commanding tone, and the Arkonide even flinched at it with the pain mounting as a tall and muscular man stepped forward at the earl’s gesture and pulled the beam a little higher by the chains and ropes the wood was hung by from the ceiling. Together with him, two others no less imposing came forward, though none of the three were clothed better than the guardsmen, rather worse-and their leather garb seemed to be blotched by stains of old blood here and there.

“The executioner and torturer, and his two assistants”, the logic sector sent in alarm. “Things are becoming serious. Try to keep faith with Poins-but remember you do not owe anything to Alienor!”

Indeed, he could reveal much of her plans to this man if he so chose. Had she sent an envoy and a spy to England she could not have chosen a better and more knowledgeable one than a knight under her command and rule, who was versed in diplomacy and was used to courtly life and speech as a minstrel, who would be devoted to her personally and be motivated by personal obligations, and therefore could not easily be bribed or convinced to betray her. Damn. 

Atlan gasped as another jolt of pain shot through his shoulders as his feet were literally swept off the floor and he truly hung by his wrists now, while at his ankles, chained together as they were and still held to the ground by a rope which was keeping him from being able to kick his captors, began to feel the strain more painfully too.

“Why don’t you go to Paris and ask Ma Dame herself what plans she might be harbouring in her mind, Your Grace?” he asked sarcastically. “She might be more forthcoming towards an English Earl than towards a mere knight-or not, considered that rumours say that not even her husband the king is fully in her confidence.”

Earl Roger even snorted shortly and then replied in the same kind of tone:” Now the Queen of France might not care for the confidence of an English nobleman, but one hears that she might care more for one of her troubadours!”

Biting back a cry of pain the Arkonide inquired sharply:” Why do you think that I could be one of them, Your Grace? Surely you have not considered such a silly idea well enough. I am but a lowly knight from Toulouse and do not even have any great reputation to me- “

The grimace of the sheriff was a coldly derisive one. “So speaks to me a man hung up in my dungeon, my prisoner I am interrogating with my executioner and his men attending-anyone else would be cowering and begging me desperately to have mercy. You must know that I am the Lord Sheriff of the entire Welsh border; my father was the Lord High Constable of England. Abergavenny answers to me, as do all the other castles along the border, small Lancaster, which was Carraig, among them. I have had my men report on you, Sir Minstrel. You arrived with but one man and took command and control of the whole town and the abbey and the castle within a night and a day, telling people of the danger they were in, taking action, closing off town and castle, ensuring the support and help of the abbot with straight words and a fat purse, making hapless Rainulf of Abergaveny your obedient follower with holding out to him the hope of saving Stephen his heir, coming through with that promise, healing hundreds of people in the following days-I have heard it all, and was most astounded at the way you went about this, coming as a stranger, from nowhere, and taking perfect command and control within a few hours, organizing everything, having everyone obey you and fly to your orders-and that was not only done for the payment you offered in gold. I truly owe you for this deed, and the good you did my subjects as well as me for keeping the plague at bay, and even perhaps saving all of England that way. I am knowledgeable enough also about events in the Holy Land and at the crusade, and how matters stand in Palestine to know what a hakim is and what esteem the paynim hold such a man in. I know about the studies such a man must have made and that he must speak the language of the paynim then, as well as having to be on the best terms with the emirs and especially this Nureddin Zengi and his father Imad Zengi as long as he lived! How come a Tolosan knight fighting as a crusader in the Holy land got into such a position that the paynim might admit him to their healer schools? You must have gone there years ago as a peaceful pilgrim and know these countries far better than any crusader only fighting them would-that means that you know much more about the world than you would admit! At the tournament you swiftly became captain of your side and fought outstandingly, in the skirmish as well as during single combat. Several of the men reporting to me said that they never saw a man fight as you did, and that you carried a Saracene sword as well as a proper knight’s sword-and as to the motto you carry, “écarté-je viens!”, that is not one a self-effacing, humble minstrel of lowly station would carry, no?”

Atlan took a deep breath, at a loss for words for a few moments, while the logic sector dryly commented:” Caught and hoist on your own petard and efficiency, Gos athor, keon athor. One crow always knows another; this seems to be a dictum that always comes true.”

Watching his prisoner’s mien sharply the earl smiled ironically. “A commander of men, you seem used to be, and if perhaps not at Toulouse where you did not return to, being called elsewhere by your lady’s orders, then at another court and place-in the Holy Land or the countries beyond that, at the crusade or even among the paynim when they fought among themselves. So what does a man like you do in my lands, on a self-appointed mission to stop the plague which you can but have seen the need of only when you had arrived here and saw the first sick ones-what was your mission before you took up the one to stop that sickness? What mission are you going to follow now with your self-appointed one accomplished, as it seems? Why Alexandra of Lancaster, of all the women between here and Jerusalem? Why did you come to England in the first place?”

“Because of castle Diarmuid Faighe.” 

The strange red-eyed knight had gone decidedly pale by now, but he clearly was not down to begging yet-not truly, though he had said please, four times. But that was over, now that he must have understood the situation he was in, fully. He was breathing deeply, with a short gasp in between now and then, but there was no whimpering or screaming. Yet.

“Explain, Sir Atlan”, the sheriff said shortly.

“I’ve heard that there, well across the Scottish border, a community of people dwells-many of them nobles, knights and their ladies who know more about the healing arts than even the teachers at Isfahan do at the madrassah. I heard about them even there, that they can do wonders, better than Ibn Sina or Abu l’Kasím could do. So I decided that I’d go to Scotland to learn from them too before I went home.”

Roger FitzMiles’ lips quirked in cold irony. “Interesting, that, and even more interesting the fact that I have not heard of that castle or the virtues of the people there here in England, when in far-away Isfahan the paynim know.”

His face reddened surprisingly swiftly. “Do you take me for a fool, minstrel, that you think me to believe that?! Why did you come to England? What does your liege lady want?!” he bellowed.

The Arkonide closed his eyes and took another, almost shaking breath. Damn. And the fun was that in Isfahan, at the madrassah where medicine was taught, the Arab teachers truly knew about Scotland and the cold rainy island of the infidels far in the west, and the castle of Diarmuid Faighe-because three of the descendants of the Stellar Guests had in truth gone to the Seljuk Empire and it's capital Isfahan, to study there and as well to carefully teach. The children of the Stellar Guests had roamed the world indeed in search of culture and others of their kind, and, perhaps, traces of their ancestors’ lost ship-and since Atlan had sailed with some of them, and on the tracks of the original ship-wrecked aliens, on a Viking ship through the Viking and the Arab world, he knew too well where their children’s children had gone to look for traces of their strange fore-fathers.

“And if she were my liege-lady, which matter my liege-lord Raymond of Toulouse would bitterly deny-do you think the Queen of France and Duchess of Aquitaine fool enough to confide her plans to a simple knight, landless and with disputable loyalty she would be ill-advised to trust?” the white-haired minstrel retorted with some heat of his own, his red eyes flashing with true anger at long last.

“Ill-advised by whom?” the earl of Hereford snapped back, derisively. “By her heart or the other parts of her highly admired and well-sung of body? Or her mind, which reputedly is as formidable as any man’s and prince’s? I hear that former servants of her court keep deeply attached and true to her and are known to never betray her, because she is able to charm them so lastingly-the duchess of Aquitaine is said to be descended from a faye, is she not?”

The Arkonide almost laughed, the awful situation he was in notwithstanding. It had been a running joke between Alienor and him that she was reputed to have a faye in her ancestry indeed, one Melusine, and was said to be able to cast an enchantment des fées upon some men if she chose, adored as she was by most of them. Looking as he did, and being able to play the harp as he could and as he had proven to a breathless audience more than once-he had made use of uncle Upoc’s harmonies a few times-he was soon whispered to be just of such ancestry. No better match of a man and a woman then, they had joked and had made allusions to their allegedly shared ancestry one of the themes of the songs he had played to her in the privacy of her solar, with only her most trusted ladies in waiting in attendance.

“Why do you keep on insisting that I might have been in the Queen’s close confidence?” Atlan asked in a reasonable tone. “I admit that there are many rumours circulating about the Queen of France, but I assure you that most of them have been launched by her enemies.”

“Her love of good music and poetry, and of minstrels, is no rumour.”

“Your Grace, simply because I can play the harp- “

“How many red-eyed and white-haired knights of your skill at playing the harp and your experience and knowledge of the world, as demonstrated only lately at Abergavenny, have sung for that Queen four years ago, and gained their lady’s heart and have been in attendance even in her private quarters, can you tell me that, Sir Minstrel?”

The Arkonide was silent but thunderstruck. Gods. How could this man here in England know-?

“Don’t be a fool, keon-athor!” the logic sector sent, mercilessly. “Looks like yours stick to human minds, obviously, and always have done so. Your presence at Alienor’s court raised a mild scandal, didn’t it, the way she and you went about your relationship-it was not always one of humble servant and commanding sovereign, was it? She confided in you when you were alone with her in her solar, though you were in her ladies’ sight to assure nothing unseemly could happen. Then she was your pupil as well when you gave her some suggestions and advised her on how culture and the weal of the people might be advanced. Your counsel changed a lot of French culture and French thinking when she followed your advice and dared move on her ideas and yours, didn’t it? The clerics hated her independence and free thinking the more, and Bernard de Clairvaux has become her sworn enemy, as we know. But in this, she never was light-hearted, and neither were you, and she took your advice and support to heart, and still is acting on it, never letting anything daunt her, not even on that crusade. In that aspect, your service at her court and your relationship with her has had a lasting influence on the lady. It seems that others realised that too; we know that Abbot Suger chided her for following the ideas of “all-too much worldly minstrels “more than what the church admonished her to do. As well, you have made a strong impression on more people than just Alienor herself in those months at the French court, count on that! This man here is of importance and rank high enough to be informed well about what goes on in his world, though by the speed messages travel among humans. You have come to the attention of the French courtiers and have stuck to their minds for your music and your special service to the Queen, and for the cultural and political influence that can be traced back to you-and that was not only Alienor herself, but also the king’s cousin, Raoul Count of Vermandois, who is infamously married to Alienor’s sister Petronilla, to name only the most important one. Courtiers, other trobadors like Marcabru or Cercamon-you know that you fascinated more people than just the beautiful queen. Which was your intention anyway, teacher of mankind. There is no dearth of deep impressions you left, dear keon-athor, at the French Court…”

“Answer!”

Atlan clenched his teeth and remained silent. He simply had no evasion and no excuse left now that he was found out as a devoted servant and former attendant troubadour of the Duchess of Aquitaine. That role put everything else into question-like what he knew, and wanted, of Poins of Lancaster. It all depended on the plans and purposes of the French Queen, in truth-and since she knew nothing of this journey of his to England and had not sent this her former minstrel to go on a mission for her, he could only go by her true intentions, the ones he knew about, which was a lively interest in young Henry FitzEmpress. If she was serious about her wish to have her marriage annulled, then she needed a new husband, who had to have certain qualities, personally as well as politically and concerning his position and expectations. The Arkonide could analyse Alienor’s situation and needs down to quite a fine layer-apart from the fact that he had read some of her secret correspondence and heard her soft-spoken talks with her sister Petronilla, having his spybots check on her even while he was asleep, as he had other hot-spots in the world of men covered well enough. He needed to know in better detail than ever about what was going on among his little barbarians.

Alienor wanted away from her French husband, very badly, and she had spoken with Geoffrey of Anjou, asking about his son, who could become the king of England if his side, the Angevin cause, prevailed.

On a small gesture of the earl, the torturer stepped forward and carefully pulled at the ropes, stretching the body of the strange knight further, the ropes becoming taut and hard as wood by the pull.

The red-eyed minstrel gasped and clenched his hands into fists, and moaned softly, but he gave no answer at all. His gaze flamed with anger and perhaps anguish, but he looked undaunted else.

“What do you want of Poins of Lancaster? Tell me, and I shall let you go. What kind of obligation do you have to him save that he is your love’s father? By abducting her you have made a dire enemy of him, who will bear you nothing but ill-will, and who will be but a danger to you. Whatever your mission is, it will be hindered by the actions he will take. If you tell the truth about the old knight you will do no evil, but might even do good to others he has, perhaps, deceived, or betrayed. Speak. What do you know of Poins of Lancaster and his actions perhaps against the king?”

“Nothing.” The voice was still calm, though it had become a little breathless, surely due to the pain the man must feel by now.

“I truly know nothing about him! And neither do I have any reason to wish the man ill or lie about him to save my own neck! He did me nothing but good, saving my life by his warning, risking even his daughter’s weal for my sake, sending her to warn me-and as a consequence he lost her. No. He has done me only good, while I have harmed him greatly. If at all, I am deeply in his debt and have no reason to wish him ill! Beyond our meetings during the tournament and now at the feast, I have had no dealings with him, and know nothing of him or about him which could be to his detriment. He seems a thoroughly decent man of honour who would not countenance murder plans like the ones Surrey of Mowbray intended to carry out, and that is all I know about him. If he ever committed treason or planned it, I never heard of that!”

“Liar! You have taken his daughter as your mistress! You must know what she knows!”

“I am telling the truth! And lady Alexandra never knew of any secret doings of her father while she lived with him!”

No, she had not, though she did now-but that had come to pass only after she had left her father. 

“Liar! Tell me what you know about Poins of Lancaster!” An angry gesture of the earl let the torturer turn the winding spool of the ropes up another notch.

“Auh!” Atlan could no longer keep from showing the pain he felt. It still was bearable, but-

“For all I know the man is a decent and honourable man, and I never have heard otherwise!”

“Liar! I shall have you tortured to an inch of your life if you do not confess! I’ll have you stretched till you’ll scream to wake the dead, and have you whipped till your blood covers the floor!”

“I am not lying! Poins of Lancaster is innocent of any treason or evil deed I might know of!”

“Confess!” The torturer turned the spool once more.

“Ahh! No! There is nothing I could-auh! confess about Poins of Lancaster!”

“Confess! You have no reason to spare a traitor!”

“Poins is-ohhhww-no traitor, but an honourable man!”

“What do you know about him and his deeds?”

“Only what he told –ohh-me at the –the feast!”

“Tell me about him and I will let you go!”

“And if you torture me to an inch of-of my life, I have nothing-ahh-nothing to tell you about Poins of Lancaster!”

The earl exhaled deeply and took back a step. He was beginning to believe his prisoner about that. If the red-eyed knight had known anything he would have spoken by now.

“And about Alienor the Queen?”

The Arkonide clenched his teeth and forced himself to calm silence, taking deep breaths in Dagor fashion.

“It is too clear that you serve her and are here on her orders, having been given ample money to furnish your journey. What are you to do for her?”

“And if she were my liege lady in truth and had sent me to England-what, do you think, Your Grace-“ the red-eyed minstrel closed his eyes and gasped, and then went on, looking hard at his captor. 

“What do you think she would wish me to do? She has no reason to wish anyone ill upon this island. Her intentions can be but good for anyone living here. Her interests-ohww-her interests coincide with the best interests of the English people. I know that here and now in England, people either take the side of King Stephen or the side of his cousin Maude-who would be your rightful ruler and would have been accepted had she not been a woman.”

The earl frowned, but he did not reply but only listened.

Atlan took a few deep breaths and forced himself to speak calmly, reasonably, despite the pain he felt.

“You know that I speak true. No matter whose side you are on, now or before-you know that King Stephen stole the crown your late king Henry wanted for his daughter, and neither has he done so well with governing your country. Anarchy reigns too often, and despotism of higher and lesser lords are too common, harming too many people. Stephen is not able to impose the king’s peace and the rule which would have been his part to contribute when he took the homage and the tribute and the obedience of his people. That this weakness comes from his good heart and chivalrous sense of mercy is no excuse and no lightening of the burden he imposes upon the people of this land, be they Norman or Saxon or of Welsh descent, or of even older blood.”

He watched how the earl took this and saw that Roger FitzMiles was watching his face as intently, looking up at him. Now the man even nodded shortly and as shortly said:” The war is over now. No matter what, the king has prevailed. Robert of Gloucester, the Queen’s brother, has died two years ago, and the Queen has left England and lives in Normandy now. Whatever fighting is left is dying down slowly.”

“You got him now! He revealed his leanings to you well enough!” the logic sector threw in triumphantly.

Yes, the earl of Hereford had made an exposing mistake by calling the former German Empress Mathilda, or Maude, the “Queen”. If he had meant Stephen’s queen, another niece of the Scots’ king, also called Matilda, he would not have said that Robert of Gloucester had been her brother, or that she had gone to live in Normandy.

“Fighting is dying down slowly only because of the treaties closed by the nobles among themselves, with the reservation that they might be called to arms by their respective sovereigns another time, being compelled to fight each other once more! The war is not over yet. None such treaties have been closed between King Stephen and Empress Mathilda- or shall we say, King Stephen and Prince Henry Plantagenet, heir to Normandy and Anjou, the Empress’ son?”

Roger FitzMiles blinked and suddenly cleared his throat.

“The next step in this war and in this elbowing for power and influence will be made and decided upon French soil. Everyone looks to King Louis’ decision, whether he will stand with King Stephen or with Maude and the Angevins, and so King Stephen will send his son Eustace to Paris as soon as the French King has returned from the crusade-king Louis is on his way already. But king Stephen should not forget the French Queen’s influence. She still has the king’s ear and the one of her sister’s husband and commands vast lands in France in her own right-Aquitaine and its numerous vassals, including Toulouse-will or nil my own excommunicated liege-lord Raymond.”

Their eyes met, and the Arkonide softly added:” If you are a king’s man, Your Grace, you would do well to keep from incurring any ill-will from the French Queen by doing harm to a trusted servant of hers, risking to sour your prince’s cause. And if you are not-perhaps it might be well to gain the goodwill of a possible supporter at the French Court for your sovereign?”

The earl cleared his throat again and suddenly smiled wryly.

“And fool I were to squander such bravery and self-control of a potential ally on torture when I might listen to possible reports and offers of his!” he said decisively, giving an unmistakable gesture to his men to lower the prisoner down and take off the chains.

Atlan managed to contain his expressions of relief to a long sigh and a gasp of pain when he was lowered to his feet again and had to find his footing after his joints had been stretched and maltreated like this, and as to his muscles-Gods, he’d need a good shot of a painkiller as soon as possible! Which time would have to be waited for, though. He was neither released nor trusted yet, and the men with the crossbows, standing guard along the walls, were faithfully keeping at the ready.

Ignoring them nonchalantly, the Arkonide devoted his attention and his efforts to dressing himself again, needing the help of a man at arms when he found himself too clumsy and hard-put to move properly, and had to hiss through clenched teeth with the pain still lingering in his arms and legs. Thanks to the Gods the activator was busily working away, healing the damage to stretched tissue and strained muscles. He would be well again on the morrow, he hoped.

When he gingerly stood and stepped forward the earl made an inviting gesture towards the stairs.

“You first, Sir Atlan. Remember that you are covered by crossbows-two of my men will walk before you, turned towards you.”

The Arkonide grimaced a little but acquiesced. It was clear that the earl, as much as he was earnestly willing to listen and talk, was not sure about his prisoner’s true intentions yet, and accordingly was extremely cautious with him. The forcedly slow progress up the stairs suited him well enough, though; walking upstairs was surprisingly painful still, and he had to support himself on the wall and had to clench his teeth, hard. But that he could walk at all, and was in fact unharmed, was singular mercy, he was aware of that. Few prisoners who had been put to that stretch or the rack proper could do likewise.

Instead of down the way went up now, far up into a tower, where there was privacy for the Sheriff of the Welsh borderlands and his guest, and where a limited number of men could guard against intrusion as well as keep a prisoner imprisoned.

The chair he was given had armrests and a high back and was cushioned-less in recognition of the captive’s rank and nobility, Atlan suspected than in acknowledgment that he would most probably fall off a hard stool, unable to sit upright for a longer time with his muscles used like that. Nicely comfortable, though he might not have needed that anymore- He was already beginning to feel better than his captor was expecting it.

“Would you like my physician to see to you, Sir Knight?” the earl asked amiably once they had taken their place at the small table.

The Arkonide shook his head, carefully leaning back. “No, thank you, Your Grace”, he answered in as friendly a tone. “I am physician enough to look after myself, later, to mix a really good brew to have any discomfort abate and let me sleep well.”

Earl Roger lifted a russet eyebrow. “Discomfort, I see”, he murmured, his lips twitching.

Gravely his noble prisoner inclined his head, though wry humour glittered in these red eyes as well.

“Some things I saw among the paynim in the Holy Land and beyond really taught me what to fear,” he responded. “Out there at times, they make use of executions which take the victim days, sometimes weeks, to die in the most horrendous way. And their torturers are likewise skilled, knowing more about human anatomy than any physician knows hereabouts. No, I very carefully saw to it that I came as a peaceful pilgrim to those lands, on my own and looking harmless.”

The earl snorted. “Looking harmless”, he repeated, letting his gaze run up and down the tall imposing, and well-built figure of his prisoner, which was even visible when he sat-oddly enough quite clearly there as well. The so-called lowly knight from Toulouse sat in that high-backed chair in a posture almost like a king, as calmly observant and quietly commanding.

Atlan’s lips quirked up. “In fact, Your Grace, I would be very thankful for another kind of hospitality. The meal the nuns dished up at noon was frugal, if not scant, and since then I have spent some of my nerves and my strength. I would appreciate some bread and butter and cheese very much, and could have served a good tankard of ale-?”

“With pleasure.” What had been used as an added ploy to torment the prisoner before was turned into its counterpart now, proving goodwill to the guest from far-away southern France.

The knight fell to eating with a will, though he never displayed any lack of the finest manners. On their master’s quiet orders, the servants had brought some pastry of venison and hare as well, and the guest did not disdain it either. 

“So.” The earl of Hereford leaned forward, his look closely trained upon the face of his guest, his mien profoundly serious.

“Sir Atlan of Arkon, I need you to speak true to me now. I must know where you stand, and what is going on.”

The Arkonide inclined his head and returned Roger Fitzmiles’ gaze without flinching. 

“That is understandable, Your Grace. So it is with me.”

With a deep breath, the earl leaned back a little again and grimaced. “That is the crux of the problem, isn’t it? We do not know where the other stands in truth, and do not dare trust him.”

Atlan smiled wryly and turned up an open hand as a sign of surrender.

“So let me start with some truth to let you see that you are trusted, Your Grace. Yes, among other matters I have the welfare and the benefit of the Duchess of Aquitaine at heart and in my view. You asked about her interest in English matters. Easily explained, that. “

“Yes, you can tell him. The events at Antiochia will soon become the scandal and the gossip of half of Europe. That Alienor has tried to have her marriage annulled is no longer a secret”, the logic sector commented.

The earl leaned forward a little once more, intent on hearing every little detail of what he was to be told. Apparently, be believed his prisoner now and trusted him to tell the truth at long last. 

“You probably know that my duchess is not well-liked by everyone at the French Court.”

Roger Fitzmiles smiled sharply.“I’ve heard.” 

“Neither is she too enthralled by her situation. Twelve years married and but one daughter to show for that. As well, it is hardly her fault that not more offspring has been born with her husband so averse to the so-called carnal sin, which in the marriage bed, of course, is no sin at all.”

The earl grunted in agreement. In him, the French king found no supporter, good.

“Now together with her husband she has taken the cross and gone to the Holy Land, on crusade. Do you know what befell at Antiochia?”

Earl Roger grimaced. Yes, of course-the man was very well informed, and had proven that before.

“Yes. There arose a mighty quarrel between the king of the French and his Queen, about an attack on Aleppo, which would have ensured a victory at Edessa, and would have won that city back for the Christian knights. Since the fall of Edessa to the paynim had been the reason for the whole enterprise and the crusade, it would have made sense if the French king had listened to the advice of his wife and had seconded that jaunt. But at the time-perhaps the Queen’s enemies who were jealous of her influence and power as a duchess commanding her own forces-raised the rumour that she had an affair with her uncle, the king of Antioch, Raymond of Poitiers. The king was angry and denied her wish, saying that before he did anything else he would do what he had first come here to do, and that was to visit Jerusalem as a pilgrim. Which decision he forced upon his wife as well, treating her most harshly, and then he went through with that decision. Which cost him the success of the crusade, and the whole Christian host lost it with him.”

The red-eyed knight cocked his head a little and smiled ironically, then he took a hearty bite of venison and sauce and washed it down with a mouthful of ale as hearty. Patiently the earl of Hereford waited. He was sure he would hear more and was not disappointed.

“True. The French Queen was enraged at her husband’s foolishness concerning strategy, and she was furious that he would listen to a slanderer like the Temple Knight Thierry Galeran, who hated her because he had to look at her beauty without ever being able to do with a woman what that sight might have evoked in his heart. That knight had been caught by the muslims and had been cut to become a harem’s guardsman.”

Roger Fitzmiles choked on his ale and coughed. “So the real reason for the failure of the crusade was a eunuch’s frustration”, he said irreverently. The strange knight from Toulouse nodded and grinned.

“Alienor was no less enraged than her jealous husband. Her advice was sound, and she knew it. To throw away thousands of lives and a victory that would have regained a lot of Palestine for the Christians and the Church for the sake of jealousy and an affair that might have happened or might not was beyond stupidity and short-sightedness. When she was forced by her husband and that gelded Templar to follow him she brought up the question whether their marriage was legal and lawful in the eyes of the church, with the kinship between her and her husband.”

The earl coughed again. “Abbot Suger would never accept that and would strongly advise against this, and so would the pope”, he said.

“Perhaps. And perhaps it will never happen-but it might happen after some more time has passed. From what I have heard the French Queen means true business concerning that issue. And what I know of her makes me believe that she will gain her goal.”

Now it was sheriff Roger’s turn to cock his head with a malicious smile on his face.

“From a former servant of the notorious Queen who still is deeply devoted to her and her cause I believe to hear the truth in this-for whom else would she confide in and could trust with matters and a mission so delicate?”

Atlan choked and coughed a little and instead of denying such a surmise or disputing it, he took another deep gulp of ale, choosing to ignore the earl’s awful grin. 

“That you do not contradict me now speaks volumes, I think-Sir Minstrel from Toulouse who has sung so sweetly at Paris.” Roger Fitzmiles could not let the matter go.

“I see that even if one visits a place but for a few months unusual looks stick to people’s minds”, the Arkonide replied shortly. “As to my singing and harping and the talks I had with my duchess, nothing of this is your concern here and now. If at all it should make you see that she truly trusts me and that I am devoted to her cause in truth-but that cause might be the cause of others too, and so the goal of my mission might lie with more than one matter or affair. Neither do I know all her plans, or would I be willing to tell you anything I do not think useful to tell, and you’d better believe that all your efforts of whatever kind would not suffice to make me tell you anything I choose not to, Your Grace.”

The red-eyed knight’s voice suddenly sounded hard, and cold.

Roger Fitzmiles slowly nodded. “I believe you, Sir Atlan”, he responded openly. “Neither will I waste time or the strength of my men on a man who might liefer die than tell on the lady of his heart-if you are truly devoted to her cause there might in truth be nothing to make you break her trust. Especially since I have heard of your fighting prowess at Abergavenny and have the suspicion that you might drag others with you into death if you then would decide to rather die.”

Atlan smiled icily. “I’d prefer to stay alive and let these others do all the dying. Dead I am no use to my liege lady-or the lady of my heart who has put her trust in me also, and whom I have given my word to that I would marry her. And so I will.”

Earl Roger slowly nodded again. “I understand. You would even have had the approval of the lady’s halfway saintly relative if you could do that in church-though you cannot since your direct liege lord Count Raymond of Toulouse is under ban of the church and threatened to be fully excommunicated.”

“Yes.” The red-eyed knight’s smile turned to a grim one, while his stiff back showed that he was not going to back down in any way. “Through no fault of mine own at all-but I neither care nor does my future wife. She has agreed to marry me by handfasting, and we will do that as publicly as possible right here in your town, Your Grace, and as soon as well. That is as legally binding as any wedding in church and even is true to tradition with a halfway Saxon lady. Her Welsh blood would agree to like customs, and as to her Norman descent-I do recall that over in Normandy they married like that in the great halls of the manors and had their priests come to them, not too long ago! So Lady Alexandra of Lancaster will be legally and properly my wife for as long as we both live, as soon as you release me and set me free.”

Smiling faintly the earl inclined his head. “And how does such an action stand with the traditions and customs of your own people, Sir Knight from Toulouse?”

The Arkonide shrugged. “With the situation I am in personally, the duties I bear my liege lord and lady as a vassal, and other matters I must consider-I have to make my own customs for to fit my own needs, or adopt such customs of others as serve my purpose and can be arranged with my conscience. Here and now I am within my right if I do as the native residents do, and as my lady’s own people do. Anything else, be it an issue or opinion of anyone, does not concern me at all. Your Grace.”

The French knight unperturbedly bit into the pastry again and chewed the piece with apparent pleasure before he took another sip of the fragrant dark ale and gestured to the servant to fill the tankard up again, which the man did with alacrity. 

Impressed against his will the sheriff of the Marches leaned back and looked his prisoner over for good measure. The red-eyed minstrel shot him a short glance but else went on eating mannerly but as eagerly as before, and as calmly.

Abruptly earl Roger de Gloucester came to a decision.  
“You shall have that freedom you crave, Sir Atlan”, he said firmly, “and to do as you would here in my city as soon as you please. For that, I have one condition still, and that one I am adamant to see fulfilled. You will tell me what you are up to in general, and where you will go from here. I do not mistrust you worse than others-I simply have learned that no-one is to be trusted completely, and my office as a sheriff has taught me to see through lies. I know that you have lied to me-not much, and perhaps only in a few but major points, and I know that you have left a lot of most important matters unsaid. I will not hinder you from going your way-if I can be sure that your actions will do no harm.”

“Whom to?”

The earl flinched. That had been too direct and unmasked a question, put exceedingly bluntly. Neither was he ready to divulge to this man where he stood, and what he himself was up to. No matter how much good he had heard of this odd noble and knightly minstrel-and-physician, he could be after any goal and be a spy for any side. He might be even a spy for some high-ranking churchman, only to pick the most unlikely role for the man-the reward he might get then might be a special dispensation and absolution to solve his personal dilemma. Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury, for example, who had come back from Reims where he had sworn allegiance to young Henry Plantagenet-Reims, that was France, that was where this man might have come from too! Jesú, the idea was not even that unlikely-it would put the red-eyed minstrel firmly then into the Angevin camp.   
But Christ, he could be reckless too-and any hint he might give could also be a caltrop thrown to trip the knight from Toulouse and make him declare himself. They knew nothing of each other still, and anything any of them said to the other might be a ruse and a false trail. Unfortunately.

“Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury, for example”, the Roger Fitzmiles said, throwing his decoy from his hand, watching his prisoner closely.

But the only reaction he got was a white eyebrow rising.

“Interesting, that example”, the knight said, wiped his mouth with the damp cloth, and slightly cocking his head he added:” Decoy, caltrop or lead to follow, I wonder?”

Almost unwillingly earl Roger began to laugh. ” Exactly that question I was just asking myself”, he responded. And then he thoughtfully explained:” Both decoy and caltrop, I believe. You know that Stephen and His Excellency have made their peace with each other last November?”

Smiling slightly Atlan nodded. “Stephen”, without any title given him, not “his majesty” or even “king”, that was tell-tale indeed. 

“Yes. I was told that the grace they regard each other with stays on the surface and has not reached the heart of either man.”

Involuntarily the Earl grinned. “So true”, he sighed. “And who has told you?”

They were grinning wolfishly at each other, neither of them willing to give and to reveal more.

The impasse was broken by an urgent knock on the door of the tower-room and a retainer coming in, bowing reverently but hastily, and coming up to his master the earl reporting urgent words under his breath.  
But not softly enough. The Arkonide, looking down into his tankard at the remnants of the beer and straining his ears clearly enough heard a name mentioned.

Fitzurse. Oh. Oh!

The question was solved now for sure. The way the earl had addressed Empress Maude as queen and had failed to call Stephen his king had been a strong hint, but as strong was the clue of the earl’s crest he wore upon his coat, and now this-to speak of Fitzurse in such a manner indicated that the man had been found by the earl’s men, who must have been searching for him. And who but someone on his side could know where to look? Who, indeed?

“Having found him previously puts you as unmistakeably and well-proven upon the same side, for the same reason”, the logic sector threw in, well satisfied since the riddle about the earl’s adherence was solved at last. 

“This is your letter of credence. Use it! And for you to have true credence you cannot have stumbled into this just by accident. That path seems to be a well-kept secret. You clearly were on your way to the north; you must have planned this, and it must have been one of your true goals, and that goal must be a political one. I recommend that you declare to have been on your way to that meeting at Carlisle. You must have a purpose there that concerns you personally; I suggest that you become a player in the whole matter.”

Yes, but which prize could a landless knight on an errantry like him be after up there in the north at Carlisle, meeting such men, and perhaps sent by the duchess of Aquitaine? All of what he was dealing with at the moment was something he had neither planned nor expected, like falling in love with this wonderful woman or acquiring a true enemy like Surrey Hamon d’Aubigny, lord of Mowbray, or stumbling across the body of a dying man and getting charged with that man’s errand. 

And that was the moment the idea struck. Alexandra. Alexandra of Lancaster. The daughter and sole heiress of Poins of Lancaster, who was the only child of Roger the Poitevin remaining in England. Roger the Poitevin, who had owned a large fiefdom in this country before his rebellion against king Henry had dispossessed him of it. Central to these lands had been the area called the Honour of Lancaster, south of Carlisle, and a bone of contention between two of the main players in this game-Ranulf of Chester and David king of Scots. And additional to the fun was the fact that after Roger the Poitevin had lost his lands in England king Henry had given the Honour of Lancaster to one Stephen of Blois, his nephew, who became king of England by lies and treachery, but was welcomed by most nobles who could not conceive of a woman upon the throne of England!

Atlan could have laughed out loud for the comicalness of the situation. Gods, yes, She-huan, Gods of the Stars-they seemed to favour him indeed, this day. This coincidence was almost an absurd one.

“Not exactly”, the logic sector disagreed. “Once you had started to ride towards the north upon that path you were set upon this path indeed, and as to the reason why you selected that road-you did so because you knew of it from hundreds of human years in the past. You stumbled into this because you are within your own unique situation and, also inevitably, act like you do, guardian and teacher to mankind-handing out new knowledge, curing the barbarians of that sickness, hoping to save the populace of this island, getting invited to the tournament. You happened into this matter exactly like this because you’re you-Gos athor da Arkon.”

Gods. That was a distinctly ironic tone coming from the extra brain, wasn’t it? And he knew exactly why his mental partner would send such a comment in such a manner. He had been after a human companion and had looked for a likely lady despite all the other matters and issues crowding him. And the situation he found himself in now, volatile, many-sided, and explosive, was the natural consequence of his yearnings and his acting upon it.

And it all appealed alluringly to his love of adventure. Gods, it seemed he needed obstacles to feeling invigorated and challenged. Nothing was as dull and boring as slow progress where everything went to plan and nothing of interest happened. Fortunately, he could rely on his little barbarians to always liven up the scene and take unexpected turns.

Roger Fitzmiles abruptly stood and turned to his retainer, giving hasty instructions sotto voce. For a moment, he turned back to his prisoner and gave him a polite nod. 

“My apologies, Sir Atlan. Something important has come up which I must attend to immediately. Since you have not yet met my condition, I cannot let you go. You will have to wait for my return and will have to stay in this room. But you can make free use of its facilities and should be able to pass a reasonably comfortable night. Do not be foolish and try something hare-brained and adventurous. If you try to escape or to take up contact with anyone I’ll have you clapped into chains too heavy for you to drag yourself along with, and that will be only the start of the misery I can promise you in such a case.”

The Arkonide inclined his head and leaned back a little, and said to the retreating back of the earl in a quite casual tone:” If you are looking for certain letters, Your Grace-they are most likely safe in sanctuary on the altar’s steps in the church of the Benedictine nuns’ priory. Together with my wife-to-be and my squire, as I hope.”

“What!”

Earl Roger de Gloucester whirled around surprisingly swiftly and was facing his prisoner, halfway leaning across the table he was propping his hands upon.

“I very much regret Alan Fitzurse’s death. When we found him, he was breathing his last and lived just to tell his tale and hand his charge on to me. Since we had no use for announcing our presence, we left him lying as he died, hoping that he would be found by some other Christian souls. That seems to have happened, now.”

The red-eyed knight stood and came up to the table, leaning forward a little, facing the sheriff, his face having become serious indeed, and his tone of voice quite calm and business-like.

“It seems we have both let our shields fall and now face each other with an open visor. It seems that I must tell you the truth about my errand-or the several errands I have now-and will be able to trust you also, or your men could not have been on the search for master Fitzurse, and neither could they have found him where he died. You shall have your condition met within the shortest order, Your Grace.”

He bowed shortly but with surprising elegance and grace.

Earl Roger exhaled deeply and explosively and simply sat down upon his chair once more. A gesture sent all his men out of earshot out the door and down the staircase. The crossbowmen went with them, and the wooden door closed with a soft thud. A bolt was shot from outside, clearly audible.

“I’m listening”, he said, barely containing his obvious excitement.

“Yes, Your Grace.” The red-eyed knight bowed once more, deeper, and more elegantly.

“I am Atlan de l’Arcon of Toulouse, here as a messenger and an envoy of my liege-lady Her Majesty Queen Eleanor of France and Her Grace the Duchess of Aquitaine. To accomplish what she has charged me with I am to act on her behalf as a negotiator and an intermediary or in any other capacity I deem necessary or fit. Since this whole mission I am on is perfectly secret I do not carry any tokens or letters of credence with me which could be found, nor will she acknowledge any knowledge of me or my errands if ever anyone should ask, and if it were her husband or his Holiness the pope. Especially not were it her current husband or the pope.”

Graciously and with his eyes having widened the earl was bowing back in sitting, acknowledging the formal introduction.

“That I am-or was-on my way north to castle Diarmuid Faighe at the shores of the loch Cruachna Calecroe in Scotland is perfectly true, and my wish to learn more of medicine there is as true too. Yet, of course, it is not all I hope to accomplish in the north.”

Earl Roger nodded, his eyes never leaving the lean expressive face of the red-eyed knight. 

“That I have found Alan Fitzurse before your men did will tell you that I knew the road he was riding down. That will further tell you that someone from your party and your political leanings must have shown me that way. There is a meeting to be held at Carlisle where quite important and influential men will convene and attend, and discuss an alliance, hoping to close a treaty with each other.”

The sheriff had blanched, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. But he kept himself calm and still else and just listened. Now he nodded, shortly and decisively, apparently knowing well enough that if he had not declared himself to be of the Empress’ party before, he had now, and had opened himself up to any strike of betrayal if the strange knight should choose so to act.

“You will know yourself who is to meet in the north, and when, and you will be well aware which kinds of conflict are to be expected between two of the main participants of this scheme.”

Again, the earl nodded, grimacing. His eyes hung upon the face of his former prisoner.

“One of the main bones of contention that will inevitably have to be dealt with to reach an agreement will be the equal distribution of the lands making up the Honour of Lancaster.”

Now earl Roger slowly leaned back, his right hand propping up his chin and the fingers accidentally hiding his mouth. This clever human was beginning to get the picture.

“Among other duties, it will be my task to grab for that bone of contention and contend for it myself with as much heat and zeal as I can muster. To do so believably I must be able to raise a true and valid claim. If my wife, though, is the sole heiress to those lands through her father who is the only son of Roger the Poitevin left in England, then my claim as her husband is a true and indisputable one. Of course, that claim will not hold good since Roger lost his lands due to his rebellion against King Henry. As well, though, at the time he already also was a liegeman of the French king by his wife’s title in the Poitou, not only in Normandy as most English barons are. And since the man who was invested with the contested lands by king Henry is our good friend Stephen, whose claims to authority are pointedly disputed by the men who will meet in Carlisle-then his claims to the Honour of Lancaster will be challenged by me also.”

“If lady Alexandra marries you, Sir Atlan, she might well be disinherited by her father!”

“And if she is then I will dispute Stephen’s right of possession in the name of my father-in-law. I do not expect to be successful with claiming those lands, especially since Stephen has lost them years ago and others fight over the spoils now. But I plan to give over my claims, after having made some proper stir, to authority I hope all there at the meeting will respect, who then can distribute the possession of the parts of the Honour of Lancaster favourably and evenly between the two men who now fight over them. That will make peace between them and will contribute to that treaty being successfully concluded-perhaps it will even make it possible at all.”

Slowly the earl was nodding, his eyes glittering and narrowed in speculation and thought. 

“I see, I do see, Sir Atlan”, he said. “But if you can make such a claim hold good, then the elder children of Roger the Poitevin must be considered before Poins of Lancaster, who is the youngest son of his father! Have you thought of that?”

“This is where my liege lady's charge to me comes into play, her further plans and the gift she means to make of this matter to the alliance at Carlisle and to the man of authority I am hoping to meet there, whom she regards as a future ally to win for herself. She has taken care of that problem in advance and has bought out the ones who could also lay claims as the older children of Roger the Poitevin, handing them an offer they could not refuse. You will remember that Poitou is a part of the grand duchy of Aquitaine nowadays, and we share the same liege lady…”

Earl Roger Fitzmiles gave a short bark of laughter, throwing back his head.

Atlan smiled gently down at him. “So you see, Your Grace-since you asked me before why I fell for my lady Alexandra-it was not any chance-met lady I would woo and marry, and the lady I asked for her hand and persuaded to agree was not accidentally lady Alexandra of Lancaster. It was only her that I came to find, and woo, and marry.”

“Jesus-Christ. So all this story about you falling in love with her-“the earl stopped. The Arkonide smiled a little sadly and bowed as elegantly as before.

“My liege lady sent a minstrel she trusted could win a lady’s heart. What neither she nor I had counted upon was that I truly fell in love with the lady of the choice. That is no lie at all.”

“So-the story of that rape-?”

“Is just that. A story.” The Arkonide held up his open hands. 

“I will readily admit to having done my utmost to seduce my lady Alexandra. But the actual-act-was done with consent, and in love by both of us. Of myself, I know it, and of her-I am as sure as a man can be. I only admitted to having forced her to protect her from any consequences or retributions from her family if anything should go wrong.”

Smiling wryly earl Roger shook his head.

“How much of all that does my dear liege-man Poins of Lancaster know? I admit, I would not have put such wiles and such playacting and deception past him before.”

“Neither should you have, Your Grace. He knows nothing and is perfectly innocent of partaking in any scheme my lady and I came up with. As I said, I fell in love unexpectedly. Originally I should have abducted my lady Alexandra, and would have forced her to agree by threatening her to have my will of her, and would perhaps have approached her father with confessing that we worked for the same goals and the same authority we hope to see upon England’s throne. But for that, I would have had to refrain from touching my lady. But when I –fell in love with her like that-and she responded to my feelings-I knew that I would not be able to keep control of myself for as long as it would take to get her and her father’s consent. Also, I could not linger and had less time on my hands to dawdle around Lancaster castle and old Poins than I had counted upon with the enmity I gained with Sir Surrey of Mowbray. He has tried to kill me two times by murder now and has been bested by me both times, and twice officially during a tjost and the tournament. I did not have the time and leisure anymore to persuade Poins of Lancaster to accept my suit-in a polite and regular way or otherwise.”

Compressing his lips and frowning the sheriff of the Marshes looked up at the red-eyed knight. He gave him a short nod, signaling him to go on.

“As well the goal of my errand has shifted somewhat now, and I cannot ride towards the north leisurely after having spent time with my new father-in-law, having obtained his consent and support of our scheme.”

The earl took a deep breath. Here they came to the point which interested him most, right now. The minstrel knight gave him the vestige of an elegant courtly bow in acknowledgment of the matter.

“I knew about the meeting and the alliance forming, of course, but not about the way the participants would be invited and called together. When we found Alan Fitzurse lying in his blood and he urged me desperately to take up his duty and carry on his mission, entrusting the letters and their forwarding into my care-only then did I learn how this should have been done. They are three letters to be sent to certain persons. The addressees are unknown or, rather, known only by a kind of riddling code, and the letters are written in a kind of cipher too which makes gibberish of their text if one reads them without having unraveled the code.”

Almost impatiently the sheriff nodded and gave another signal to the red-eyed knight to go on.

“All that Alan Fitzurse could tell me, and I believe not because he did no longer have the time but because he did not know more either, was that the letters had to be delivered to Sir Poins of Lancaster who would decode them and send them on. I believed the dying man, Your Grace. The apparently quite secret path we rode on leads straight up to Lancaster Castle, if one follows the overgrown and hidden part of it too.”

Pursing his lips Earl Roger de Gloucester looked up at his former prisoner with a frown, and then his lips widened to an ironic smile.

“So much for your firm avowals that you knew nothing about Poins of Lancaster’s doings, Sir Knight from Toulouse”, he said mockingly. Atlan spread his hands and smiled shortly.

“What would you, Your Grace? As matters stood, the task of getting the meeting going at all had fallen to me, unexpectedly-less into my lap than upon my head, Your Grace. Yet I am instructed to act to my liege lady's benefit and on her behalf and do what I deem fit and necessary to further her interests. Since it is in her keenest interest to win the friendship and allegiance of an authority which is on the rising I have to do all that is in my power to further that man’s interests and see to it that this meeting takes place and this allegiance is formed, and the treaties accordingly are concluded between all concerned to the best of all concerned-to put the matter in the shortest way possible.”

The earl snorted and leaned back, slowly, and almost in disbelief shaking his head while the red-eyed knight gave him an almost mocking bow.

“I understand your reservations, Your Grace, and your doubts. But I assure you that I am taking the matter most seriously.”

“Do you now, Sir Knight from Toulouse”, earl Roger murmured, but he gestured his guest to go on.

“As to the truth of my avowals that I knew nothing but good about Sir Poins of Lancaster-that holds true as much as anything, Your Grace.” The red-eyed minstrel looked dead serious indeed, at this moment.

“He has saved my life with sending lady Alexandra to warn me, and has given nothing but goodwill and his friendship to me, while I robbed him of his daughter and brought her to shame, forever destroying her good name-or at least he cannot know better of me, as yet. It was vital for me to win her hand, this way or that way. Since I have heard by now that my lady has stayed unwed because her father could not pay up for a dowry high enough to satisfy a suitor of the rank her father aspired to, and would not accept the suit of a man who would accept a poorer dowry because he wanted a better marriage for his daughter-I know now that my suit would have been rejected by Sir Poins in any case, with me having neither lands nor titles to offer in abundance. I would have had to resort to other means to win my lady’s hand anyway and so do not feel too guilty about how this affair has turned out for my lady and me.

But in the eyes of Sir Poins, I must be a villain and a traitor indeed. Under these circumstances, I cannot approach him smiling, amiably telling him of Alan Fitzurse’s errand and handing him the letters. Poins of Lancaster would run me through with sword drawn before I could greet him properly, I suspect. So before meeting him I must create irreversible facts and keep him from any ambition to at least make of his wedded daughter a widow too soon-not that I could not win any fight against my father-in-law-to-be, Your Grace. But I would have us face each other at least with some chance of gaining peace and conciliation when we meet next-what follows is that I neither can approach Sir Poins to hand these letters on to him, nor could I admit anything I learned about him to anyone, for the sake of the cause I am serving no less than for the sake of my lady Alexandra, whose father I would not see come to harm through any fault of mine, or at least not come to further harm than the one I have already done. 

Least of all could I admit anything to you, Your Grace, when I had no real knowledge of your true inclinations and intentions. I might have betrayed a man to you whom you would not have suspected before, or you might have known and his doings might have been on your orders, but your mind might have changed-the possibilities were too many for me to take a risk with Poins of Lancaster’s life and standing with his overlord. And then, of course-it is simply true that I know nothing about him. I have but the word of a dying man that my future father–in–law is dabbling in matters that some people might call traitorous, while I might call him a faithful servant of his true king, and would not see him do anything traitorous at all. But these matters depend upon the points of view a man might have, and which moreover might change with circumstances changing. Hearsay and rumour are nothing to be made of as long as I have no proof in my hands-and proof of that kind, which would confirm my future father-in-law’s true allegiances, I will not gather now to have him stand exposed to any man’s ill-will. I cannot do that to him, not for my lady’s sake, and not because he doesn’t deserve such treatment at all, and least of all men from me, while I owe my life to him.”

The earl of Hereford exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, looking up at the calmly standing knight with a deep frown. Then with a sigh he shoved back his chair and stood, nodding heavily.

“I see, yes, I see, Sir Knight from Toulouse”, he softly said. “So much-and so honourably conducted-your behaviour towards a man you would not endanger or betray. I accept your point of view, Sir Atlan. So you cannot approach Sir Poins about these letters. Yet his help you must have to be able to accomplish your task. Shouldn’t you hand these letters on to me now and entrust this affair in your turn to me, now that you seem to be sure of my true allegiance, and seem to trust me well enough?”

Decisively the Arkonide shook his head. “No, Your Grace. The task has fallen to me, and it is me now who must accomplish it. You could not do the work that falls to me personally either but would have to send trusted men of yours to get it done. Then why not let me do it? As far as I have seen the matters to be done will need a man who knows how to persuade and to negotiate to have them done well, at least in part, which I know myself to be, Your Grace. I have been to several courts of Kings and princes in this world and believe that I have conducted my affairs well enough there, throughout Europe no less than far away in paynim lands, and even have gone farther into lands beyond Palestine which were barely known to the Roman rulers of old, and are unknown to people in Europe nowadays. I doubt that any man of yours, as much as he might be trusted by you, can do better.”

Earl Roger pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “Yet you will need Sir Poins’ help to decode the letters in question, Sir Atlan, and to even find out whom they are addressed to. I or any trusted man of mine can obtain that help easily. You, on the other hand, Sir Knight from Toulouse, cannot because of the circumstances you yourself have created.   
It is true that Sir Poins of Lancaster, as far as I know him, will draw his sword as soon as he gets any sight of you, and will go at you trying to kill you-and that condition will hold for at least a month or two before he will calm down well enough in your sight to allow you to explain yourself at all, no saying whether he won’t draw his sword anyway when you’ve had your say. So, there is something vital and essential to be done which you simply cannot do, Sir Minstrel. So tell me where the letters are and hand them over to me, and we shall call it quits and conclude the affair between us, and you shall go free.”

Atlan smiled sharply and bowed to his jailer. “And how would you force me if I refused, Your Grace? I do not owe any allegiance to you and am no subject of yours, Your Grace. I am my own man and my liege lady’s and plan to act according to my own decisions and to what I think right and fitting, and am not obliged to you either, Your Grace.”

The earl answered with a smile of his own as sharp.

“Remember that you are in my power, Sir Atlan. That should suffice for you to come to your senses and obey me. If you do not, I shall have you bound severely with irons too heavy for you to be able to drag them along with yourself. Believe me, within the shortest order you will beg me to have the chains removed at any cost to you.”

“I well believe you, Your Grace.” The Arkonide stepped around the table, his open hands stretched out to the side. Though he was of course unarmed, he was not wearing any chain mail either, fortunately now.

“But that I am in your power now I very much doubt.”

Before Earl Roger could answer his prisoner had whirled around and jumped to the side, out of his sight. Suddenly he was grabbed from behind while he felt the cool edge of his own dagger pressed against his throat. 

“Now you are in my power, Your Grace”, he heard the knight’s voice speak softly into his ear. “Call for your men and have them open the door.”

“And if I do not?” the earl hissed back, in vain trying to wrench himself free. His former prisoner was holding him surprisingly fast.

“Then I shall make them react to your screams.”

A grip, or a punch, to his shoulder followed which made Earl Roger cry out in true pain all of a sudden while he was feeling astoundingly weak in his knees and helpless as he was manhandled towards the door where the first shouts of his men could be heard, asking whether their master was well or needed assistance.

The sheriff tried to yell to his men that they should stay away, but before he could do that, he had to cry out anew with another surprisingly burning wave of pain. Then the door was opened while he received another blow to his neck and was thrown aside like a sack of charcoal and lay limp and unable to move, forced to watch helplessly and stunned to see his men rush in and get hit and thrown one by one by the red-eyed man jumping at them and whirling out of their reach, his fists and open hands as well as his kicks downing the men at arms like straw puppets the young men had their sport with after harvest.

Within a few minutes, seven men lay unmoving and moaning upon the floor while the knight from Toulouse strode up to his former jailer all unconcernedly, not even the worse for wear and not even looking disheveled from the fight, picked him up easily and made him stand staggering, and shoved him toward the staircase, prodding his captive with his own dagger into the back.

“Let us go down to your hall, Your Grace”, the red-eyed minstrel said amiably, and a little stumbling the earl went down the stairs with his hands held fast behind his back and threatened with his own weapon, hardly believing how he had come into this situation and how swiftly matters had changed.

Down in the hall he was set down in his chair while another sudden grip at his neck made his knees buckle and kept him effectively from getting up again as he doubled over with a shocked hiss of pain. 

The captain of the sheriff’s guard picked this moment to rush the intruder with ten more of his men but was taken by surprise when the strange red-eyed knight grabbed a blunted tournament lance on display from the wall and used it like a peasant who would fight only armed with a staff, downing the men with hard strokes and hits that made them unable to rise for the moment. According to their master’s orders the guardsmen were not out for blood or ready to kill and so were at a disadvantage with the strange knight, who, in his turn, took as good care not to hurt the men attacking him permanently and even refrained from breaking bones other than a lower arm and a leg he could not help hitting.

“Stand down and stop fighting!” the earl called out suddenly. Only three of his men were on their feet still.

Breathing deeply in Dagor cadence Atlan turned back to his former jailer and saw earl Roger Fitzmiles stare around his hall incredulously. There his men lay, moaning and in vain trying to get up while the knight from Toulouse stood strong and free, holding that lance, and could not be hindered now from simply leaving and running to the stables, where no doubt he could find a horse and could escape for good-if he risked the goodwill of the earl and hoped that he would not order his crossbow-men to pursue and shoot.

But the minstrel was not going to play such a game. Instead, he laid down the lance and held out his hands to his sides, offering to surrender “if hostilities are ceased now, Your Grace.”

Earl Roger gave a hoarse laugh and tried to sit up, and found that his knees would not carry him, not yet.

“You will be able to walk again in a few minutes, Your Grace”, Atlan of Arcon said, returning to the earl’s side and doing a quick medical check, holding his palm to the side of earl Roger’s neck. Then he offered the dagger back, hilt outward.

“Accept my apologies, please, Your Grace. But I had to defend myself and show you that I am quite capable of fighting my way through obstacles if need be”, he explained.

Slowly the sheriff took back his dagger and stuck it into his belt, looking the red-eyed knight up and down. A few minor scratches his former prisoner had sustained, yes. But nothing serious.

“I understand now how Sir Surrey of Mowbray could fail to vanquish you with fifteen and even thirty men”, he said. “Where did you learn to fight like that, Sir Atlan? I’ve never seen the like!”

“In the lands beyond Palestine, Your Grace. The paynim emirs have flourishing trade with those countries far in the east. One has to cross an enormous desert to get there, but beyond that desert, one finds the land of Chin. This is where the fine soft silk comes from originally.”

“I see.” Earl Roger gingerly stood and slowly stepped forward and viewed the carnage on the floor more closely. Groaning his men were picking themselves up and tried to put themselves to rights.

“You were but using your hands and feet”, the sheriff murmured, “and a blunt staff. But I believe that you could have killed some of my men if you had chosen to do so.”

“I could have, Your Grace.” The Arkonide bowed slightly and stood the sharp look of the sheriff with a calm mien.

“But we are on the same side and work for the same goal. If I have to, I shall try to fight my way free in earnest and will find a way to escape and free my wife-to-be and my squire. But I would liefer leave here in good order and as your ally, Your Grace. Especially since you are one of the three addressees of the letters that have been entrusted to me.”

The Earl of Hereford only took a long angry breath and held it, visibly fighting to master his ire. But then he exhaled and managed to ask in a reasonably calm voice:” You astound me, Sir Atlan. How do you know that? I thought the addressees were unknown and only hinted at by a riddling code, as you put it, and the letters were ciphered?”

The red-eyed knight cleared his throat.

“So they were, and are, yes, Your Grace. But I have managed to unravel the code and solve the riddle, and as to the cipher-I found the key with Master Fitzurse also and have managed to read the cipher.”

“How?” The sheriff’s eyes were burning now. This could go right now-or wrong. 

Atlan made himself ready to run and ostentatiously calmly responded: “Having been confronted with foreign languages and different ways of writing has made me quick and astute at such matters, Your Grace. Also, the paynim Emirs are great ones for ciphering in a letter-it was in the East, actually, where I learned how to go about such matters.”

Unexpectedly the earl threw back his head and guffawed with sudden laughter. 

“Your liege-lady, good Sir, deserves praise for her astuteness in choosing her emissary and representative alone! You are a whole host of able men rolled into one, Sir Atlan! A minstrel, a physician, an astounding fighter, a well-learned traveler, a negotiator and now a man who knows how to cipher and read encrypted letters-what other special abilities will come to light in the course of time?”

The Arkonide smiled sharply and bowed with a flourish, doing his best to hide his relief at that reaction.

“Time will tell and show that, Your Grace.”

“Well. I shall be glad to have you as an ally, good Sir. Give my letter to me then, and I shall be satisfied to let you deliver the other letters to their recipients. What about the cipher of these two messages?”

Atlan held up his open hands. 

“The letters should have been delivered to Poins of Lancaster. It seems that he was trusted well enough to decipher them and write copies of the transferred text. Since the two letters are to go to Wales, I believe they would have been written down in Welsh-perhaps encrypted with another cipher Sir Poins knows of.”

Earl Roger bit his lip. “I am reluctant to drag him into this now. We’ve had enough altercations with you involved, I believe, Sir Minstrel.”

The Arkonide could not keep from grinning for a moment. He heartily agreed.

“Yes, Sir Poins was to send on messages like that into Wales and has brought missives to me he had had to translate before. To send on letters of such delicacy and import in plain speech- “

“Perhaps my bride knows what to do, Your Grace. She might have seen and heard more than she consciously knows right now. Otherwise, there will be other solutions I can find. Since I am also the messenger who will deliver these letters, I might have an idea or two.”

“Should I say thank God now, Sir Atlan, or rather God help us?” Earl Roger laughed softly and saw the red-eyed knight smile cheerfully. The tension between them was vanishing fast, thank God indeed. This strange far-traveled man might be a good ally in truth-for all the men of the Angevin party, and especially, it seemed, for the authority they had spoken of in veiled terms, young Prince Henry Fitzempress Plantagenet, heir to Anjou and Normandy, and to the English Crown.


End file.
